


Summer Lover

by dawnstruck



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Some Fluff, Some angst, oblivious!kise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstruck/pseuds/dawnstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Aomine starts in a really bored voice, gaze flicking up ahead when the professor finally walks in and the other students quiet down a bit, “Do you want a blowjob after this?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post on tumblr: http:// dawnstruck.tumblr.com/post/112533025940/fujoshicabal-my-fave-overheard-on-campus-moment  
> When I first read it a couple of weeks ago, I immediately had to start writing this. Only got around to finishing it now. Not quite as light-hearted as I expected it to be, but it seems like I can't do fluff without angst.
> 
> Edit: I just realized that the song "Thunder" by Boys like Girls fits quite well as a soundtrack, especially for the final scene, so you might want to give it a listen. ;-)

It's their first summer at university.

It's not a summer romance, never that, not like in all those purple prose novels his mother claims to never read. It's just that it's summer and it's hot, and there's some kissing, some fooling around, but there's nothing romantic about it, nothing serious that would inspire Kise to wax poetic about the splendor of it all. About how thrilling and yet familiar it is when their bodies press up close against a wall, or about how Aomine's hands are strong and rough and gentle and- well.

It's not a romance, is what Kise is thinking, just two boys away from home for the first time, alone in a big city, two friends who manage to make a virtue out of necessity. And yet...

And yet.

 

The windows are all cracked open, but it does little to alleviate the stifling heat. This lecture room is small enough as it is, crammed and probably with enough asbestos in the walls and ceiling that it will give cancer to their grandchildren.

They are sitting in the second-to-last row, but only because the seats at the very back were already taken. They've come to regret it, though, because here the high-noon sun pierces right through the window panes and scorches their shoulders underneath their clothes.

Kise also regrets choosing style over comfort this morning and wearing a pale pink dress shirt that looks nice but now clings to his skin in uncomfortable places and makes him worry about sweat stains. Aomine's tee is black, of course, but also made of plain cotton which seems much more sensible.

Kise is scribbling in the margins of one of the papers in front of him, silly sketches of some anime character he caught on the tv last afternoon, already bored out of his mind before the class has even started. He tugs at his collar, as if it would actually cool him down, and blows up a little huff of air, trying and mostly failing to unstick damp strands of hair from his sweaty forehead.

From the corner of his eye, he can tell that Aomine is subtly watching him, not openly looking, but still enough for Kise to feel slightly unnerved.

“So,” Aomine starts in a really bored voice, gaze flicking up ahead when the professor finally walks in and the other students quiet down a bit, “Do you want a blowjob after this?”

Kise's pencil stills mid-stroke, delicately caught between his fingers. Then, he gives a small, dejected sigh.

“...Yes.”

 

Kise's got this thing about sex where he's watched too many love scenes from Hollywood movies and is constantly worried about his skills, his poise, his looks. He has certain ideas about how some things should be, how there's noises that ought to be avoided at all costs, and some positions just feel too ridiculous to try out.

Aomine is nothing like that. He's sloppy and straight-forward and that's wonderful and even worse, because Kise can't drag his eyes away from the spit running down Aomine's chin, how it sounds wet with every motion of his head, how he simply opens his eyes in the middle of it, somewhere between curiosity and concentration as he stares up at Kise. And when Kise stifles a downright mewl in his palm, Aomine only sucks harder, tries harder, and Kise allows himself to cry a little louder in return.

 

He's not quite sure how it actually started.

Just that they were vaguely aware of having chosen the same university, and then more aware of it when they finally found themselves sitting in the same course.

A few years ago, Kise would have shouted Aominecchi's name and waved his hand about obnoxiously. But now he'd only sat up straighter in his chair, his fingers giving a little wriggle where his chin was propped up on his hand. It was a small gesture, but surprised him somewhat as he couldn't remember consenting to it.

But it still caught Aomine's attention, here in this crowded room, and their gazes locked for a moment, and then Aomine snached up his backpack by one strap and slid it off the table where he had just been about to sit down next to some pretty girl.

Instead Aomine had slouched over to Kise, grabbed an empty chair and pulled it up next to Kise's desk, because his other side was already taken. Then he just slumped down on the chair, letting his bag slide to the floor.

This way, they were sitting entirely too close, and their professor would surely comment on it, considering there were still some seats left throughout the room, but Aomine had never much cared for authorities' opinions.

“Hi,” Kise had said, feeling strangely breathless, which was ridiculous because this used to be one of his closest friends.

Aomine had glanced at him from the side, not even bothering to turn his head, before looking away again, and Kise's stomach seemed to drop.

Then.

“Hey.”

Kise hid his smile between his fingers.

 

They slide into it, without really noticing it at first.

Well. Kise notices how the casual touches gradually become more, but he never reads anything into it.

It's just “Did you do the reading let me see your notes I was too tired last night” and Aomine leaning in, leaning over or against his shoulder and peering down at the pages that are marked in neon colors of blue and yellow.

“This is university, Aominecchi,” Kise reminds him constantly, “You can't slack off like you did in school.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aomine waves him off and then asks what a certain kanji means.

 

Having Aomine around in two of his courses is actually quite useful.

People – especially fans, that is – don't bother him when he's got Aomine sitting next to him, walking next to him on their way to a lecture or the cafeteria.

He's also quite entertaining which reminds Kise of their early days of Teiko, but unexpectedly does not make him feel sad or nostalgic.

He's surprised that Aomine actually shows up to class, every day without fail, forgotten homework aside. And he'll drawl out some dry-wit comments when the professor rambles on too long or one of their fellow students asks a particularly stupid question, and there are several times where Kise has to bite his lip in order to stifle his laughter.

They text, too, whenever they are sitting in different lectures and bored out of their minds. In Aomine's case, that's pretty much all of the time, so Kise finds himself typing away underneath his desktop and lamenting that no amount of emojis will ever manage to convey the absolute glee he feels at the realization that Aomine wants him to be part of his life again.

 

Their study sessions are... never quite that.

Kise always brings his books because he's optimistic like that, but Aomine hates the library, so they generally end up sprawled out on the floor of his one-room-apartment instead.

The electric fan in the corner makes the dust swirl up and dance in the air, and Aomine takes off his shirt and rubs at his eyes and complains about the heat and the texts and the general awfulness that's university life.

“Aw, does that mean you don't like me either, Aominecchi?” Kise whines a little, giving a pout and slumping down in a dejected pose.

“Nah,” Aomine eventully says after a short pause, reaching out to not-so-tenderly ruffle his hair, “You're alright. Like some kind of dog.”

“A dog?” Kise complains, not sure whether to feel flattered or offended.

“Yeah,” Aomine agrees off-handedly, “Some sort of lapdog. A poodle or something.”

“Poodles are actually a very smart breed,” Kise points out brightly.

“Great,” Aomine snorts and pushes his book over, “Then I bet you can explain this section.”

 

It's during one of those study sessions again, when it's much too hot and much too boring and Kise knows he'd doze off the moment he closes his eyes, that it happens.

Kise is lying on his stomach, reaching out an arm to snatch up his glass and drink the last bit of his ice tea, relieved when it's still pleasantly cold, if also much too sweet. He's barely set the glass back down again when Aomine is suddenly next to him, pushing against his shoulder and rolling him over onto his back. Kise expects some bout of childish wrestling, born from hours of ennui and a wish for procrastination, but then Aomine is half on top of him and slotting their lips together.

For a moment, Kise has no clue what's happening, a tiny gasp escaping him, only to feel Aomine's tongue leisuredly swiping through his mouth.

Kise is just lying there, confused, his fingers hesitantly curling up against Aomine's chest, but then Aomine is already pulling back a little. He runs the tip of his tongue over his own lips instead, a contemplative look on his face.

“You taste like raspberries,” he notes mildly, as if it were some kind of surprise considering the tea was raspberry-flavored and Aomine pretty much tasted the same.

“Your mouth is all cool,” he adds gruffly, his gaze dipping down to Kise's blushing lips, a man in the desert, wondering whether the oasis in front of him is just a mirage.  
Then he scratches the side of his nose and turns away.

“You done with this book yet?” he asks, pointing at the forgotten pages.

“Yeah,” Kise nods, somewhat jerkily.

“Cool,” Aomine bobs his head a little, fingers flicking to the index at the back, “You wanna get off together when we're done?”

Kise doesn't even remember saying yes, doesn't remember getting any studying done because he can't concentrate at all anymore. But he does remember the floorboards digging into his shoulderblades and tailbone, his pants shoved down to his knees. Remembers the whirring of the fan and the cool breeze it blows across his bare, sweaty skin. He remembers lying next to each other like pre-pubescent boys, jerking themselves off, the sun painting long golden stretches across the room and their bodies, curious and daring through the open windows.

But most of all, he remembers allowing his head to lol to the side, his gaze falling on Aomine who's already watching him, sharp and blue, before Aomine's other hand reaches over and closes over Kise's fingers, closes around his cock and changes the rhythm, so now their movements match.

It's not quite how Kise likes it best, but Aomine just keeps looking at him like this, like _this_ and _just so_ , and then he's already coming anyway.

 

For the most part, Kise is just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the punchline to the joke that he is surely going to be the butt of.

Because there has to be more to this when they are necking like teenagers, kissing lazily to make the long hours of their shared evenings pass more quickly. Maybe Aomine has made some sort of warped bet with someone. Maybe he's just being cruel for the sake of being cruel.

Thing is, it doesn't feel like cruelty. Thing is, it feels amazing. Every kiss, every caress leaves Kise a little bit more breathless each time.

And it's dangerous, so so dangerous. Because it took Kise more than two years to get over his stupid basketball-based admiration towards Aomine. What might happen if he develops an actual real romantic crush?

Kise can't do that. But it would be so incredibly easy. Easy because how can Kise not long to misinterpret all the times between lectures when Aomine brings him his favourite kind of coffee? How can he not want to repay every single kindness with kisses?

Kise guesses what one might call friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Mates with long, drawn-out make-out sessions.

So Kise is not even feeling used. He's feeling cherished. Because for all that Aomine used to complain about how tedious girls who want to go on proper dates are, at a big university like theirs, there are surely some girls who would agree to a casual arrangement. Aomine is certainly handsome enough to have several options available.

Kise has even entertained the idea that Aomine is simply experimenting, testing out the parameters of his sexuality. But even for that, some anonymous hook-up in a Shibuya club would be a must more straight-forward solution. Why as a distant friend and old classmate instead?

They are distant, Kise muses thoughtfully, chin propped up on his hand, not even listening to the lecture. Right now, they are sitting next to each other and Aomine has his right foot hooked around Kise's left one, and then he just reaches down under the table and places his hand on Kise's knee.

It's not a possessive gesture or even one that is meant to arouse. Instead it's just a comfortable weight, a pleasant presence that roots Kise to the spot and makes sure that he really, really can't focus on the professor's words now.

They are distant, Kise reminds himself. For all their physical proximity, they couldn't be farther apart.

Aomine leans over, and when he whispers directly into Kise's ear, his breath is hotter than even the heat of summer, “Can I come over to your place later?”

Yes, Kise thinks and it's like a gasp and a shiver down his spine, but on the outside it only translates to a mute nod.

 

They fuck for the first time that day.

It's still stifling hot, and Kise feels like the heatwave that has held Japan in its grip for the past weeks has decided to take up residence deep within his core. He feels like he will never be cool again, feels like he will burn. Aomine has always been a kind of fire, and Kise has always itched to touch the flames.

He gets the feeling that Aomine knows what he is doing, that this is not his first time with another man. Kise would feel jealous, would feel like one of many, but in that moment he cannot. Cannot convince himself of the fact that he will be cast aside once this is done, not when Aomine fucks him with such single-minded dedication.

And Kise is intimately familiar with boredom. With love at first sight and instant gratification. He knows the disappointment of too easily getting something that you thought would be more challenging to earn.

Maybe he should have played harder to get. Should have kept Aomine on his toes instead of willingly falling into bed with him.

But it's been weeks. Weeks of Aomine working his way up from kisses to blowjobs to anything that can still be shrugged off as 'just fooling around'.

They are not fooling around anymore.

Kise is suffocating with the sheets tangled around his legs and Aomine breathing heavy against him.

It's too hot, much too hot. And Kise wants out, Kise wants a shower and wash everything away, the sweat and the dread and the lingering longing.

Through the open windows, he can hear the noises of traffic and people talking, because life goes on, even as he is losing control of his own.

“Wanna go again?” Aomine asks a while later, mouthing against Kise's neck.

The answer Kise's body gives is different from what he had decided in his mind.

 

The tiny tv in the corner of Aomine's room is showing the weather forecast.

Aomine is furiously scratching his head and glaring down at his notes as if that would help him make sense of them. Kise is sitting with his legs folded, fanning himself with a small stack of paper.

The heatwave will be letting up shortly, the lady is saying with a pretty smile. But it will be followed by a series of heavy storms.

Oh, Kise thinks as if there were something strangely symbolic to the change. His hand with the papers falters and sinks down into his lap.

“By the way,” Aomine says, barely glancing up from his work, “Satsuki and Tetsu are coming by next Wednesday. You in?”

“Sure,” Kise says, quite happily because he hasn't seen the other two in a while. Some exposure to their friends will probably even help Aomine set his mind straight.

Better bring your umbrella, the woman on tv adds with a wink, and Kise cannot help but agree.

 

They meet in a café that serves both great milkshakes and those lemon tarts that Momoicchi loves so much. Kise hugs both her and Kurokocchi, and orders himself a raspberry sorbet, even though the taste makes him reminisce.

Aomine is predictably late, and Momoi huffs and puffs just as predictably, but it's obvious that she doesn't really mean it, so Kise just exchanges a knowing smile with Kuroko.

They make smalltalk for a while, getting the boring stuff out of the way because Aomine would just complain about it anyway. And Kise has made new friends at uni, but it's still nice to catch up with old ones.

When Aomine finally arrives, he does so with a lazy wave, apparently not even caring about his tardiness. He offers Kuroko a fist bump, ruffles Momoi's hair as she throws her arms around him, and then pulls up a chair to sit down next to Kise.

“Hmm, raspberry,” he smirks when he eyes Kise's plate, as if it were some inside joke between them. Kise is half-tempted to offer him a spoonful because that's what he would do with most of his friends, but in this moment, this company, it feels a little bit too familiar. Too obvious.

“You should order some,” he says instead, blithely and with a simple smile.

“Nah,” Aomine says and just leans over to kiss him.

Kise stills, fingers tightening around the spoon. He'd blame the sudden brain freeze on the sorbet, except for the fact that Aomine has licked all traces of it straight out of his mouth.

“I want chocolate ice cream,” Aomine decides once he's pulled back, leafing through the menu to find the price.

“The chocolate milkshake looks quite nice as well,” Kuroko informs him.

“How would you know, you always have vanilla,” Aomine scoffs.

“Don't talk like that to Tetsu-kun,” Momoi warns and slaps the back of his hand.

Kise can't breathe. It's like all oxygen has been sucked out of the room and he's the only one who noticed. Maybe he is. After all, no one else seems to have noticed the kiss either.

With unsteady movements, he pushes his chair back and gets up. He can feel the others' eyes on him, but does not look at them.

“Kise-kun?” Kuroko asks, mild worry in his voice, “You look pale.”

“I just-” Kise wheezes, stumbling away from the table, “I just need some fresh air.”

There are dark spots dancing around his vision and he barely maneuvers his way through the other tables, making for the door. As soon as he's outside, fresh air floods his lungs and everything turns bright and white instead, leaving his just as dizzy.

He's clammy, covered in cold sweat, and he cannot tell whether it's the weather or just his body playing tricks on him. His feet are lead as he walks away from the café, nearly bumping into passersby as he rounds a corner.

“Kise!” he hears someone call from what sounds like far away, and it's Aomine, so he forces himself to walk faster, fall into a light jog.

Slowly, things are clearing up around him. He can see the busy streets, the shop windows, the towering clouds in the sky. With vague recollection, he recalls the forecast and the summer heat coming to an end.

No wonder, he thinks. No wonder that such a summer must eventually come to an end. No sky can stand so much heat without breaking.

“Oi, Kise!” he hears again, and this time it's much closer. No one outruns Aomine Daiki, especially not someone who actually wants to be by his side.

“Kise! Wait dammit!”, Aomine calls out again, just when thunder cracks through the air. Had the lightening struck already? Kise cannot remember.

A raindrop lands on Kise's cheek and Aomine's hand on his shoulder.

“Kise,” Aomine chides him, but it's more caring than gruff, “You shouldn't run when you're obviously dizzy.”

“You kissed me,” Kise says in his defense, defeated and having come to a stop. He hasn't turned, but Aomine is in front of him anyway.

“Yes?” Aomine confirm in a questioning tone, “So?”

“You kissed me in front of Kurokocchi and Momoicchi,” Kise elaborates, not daring to look up. The rain is falling more steadily now, cool and pleasant.

“Oh,” Aomine says at length, and suddenly he sounds a bit unsure, “You didn't want them to know? I'm – fuck, Kise, I'm sorry. I already told them a while ago.”

“Told them what?” Kise asks breathlessly because Aomine can't, Aomine isn't-

“That we're dating,” Aomine replies, as easy as that, and oh. _Oh._

“Yes!” Kise laughs, just when the heavens open up and start pouring down on them with reckless abandon.

He grips Aomine by the collar and pulls him in for a kiss. All around them people are pulling out umbrellas, covering the heads with newspapers or handbags, running for the nearest shelter. No one pays any attention to the two boys who are already completely soaked.

Kise's shirt fits itself against him like a second skin, and he tries to fit himself against Aomine in a similar fashion, pressing close and closer, until Aomine has to push back with just as much force to keep standing.

“I love you!” Kise gasps into Aomine's mouth, “My god, I love you!”

“Oh fuck, Kise, don't say that,” Aomine replies, ducking his head, and for a moment Kise's heart stops.

But then he sees that Aomine is blushing, Aomine Daiki honestly blushing right in front of him, and Kise dives in to kiss him some more.

 

“What the hell is going on in that head of yours?” Aomine wonders eventually, gently knocking his own forehead against Kise's, “That was a bit of a rollercoaster ride just now."

“Nothing,” Kise says and smiles. Because he should have known. He should have known that Aomine was never a man of words, but of actions.

Actions like bringing take-out when Kise had forgotten to buy groceries. Like waking him from a nap by gently carding his fingers through his hair. Like telling his two best friends that he had a boyfriend.

“Let's go back to the café then,” Aomine says, though he's still giving him a bit of a funny look, “I still want that ice cream.”

“Maybe I'll have some more of that sorbet,” Kise muses, fitting himself under the protective curve of Aomine's arm, “And maybe I'll share with you.”

“I don't know whether they'll even let us back in again,” Aomine sigh, glancing down at their soaking clothes and then up at the heavy rain.

“We could always go back to my place and warm up a little,” Kise hints, gleeful now that the weight has been lifted away.

Aomine casts him a sidelong look, “What about Tetsu and Satsuki?”

“They'll understand,” Kise knows, though he himself had only understood just now.

“This is why I never get any studying done around you,” Aomine complains, but he's already steering them into the directon of Kise's apartment block.

“It's alright,” Kise tells him, tilting his face up to let the refreshing rain wash over him, “You can always just be my trophy wife.”

“Your grades are as bad as mine,” Aomine reminds him.

“True,” Kise admits with a laugh, “But unlike you, I'm always on time and have a charming personality.”

For a moment, Aomine just looks at him. Then he turns away and shrugs, “Trophy wife it is, then.”

And really, if that isn't the perfect set-up for one of those gaudy romance novels, Kise doesn't know either.

**Author's Note:**

> Hm , not sure how I feel regarding the general structure. But I'm glad I finished it.  
> Feedback feeds me! :)


End file.
